


Sore Spots

by nativeportlandian



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Mass Effect 2, Pre-Relationship, Shakarian - Freeform, but probably not the kind you expect, grotesquely fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nativeportlandian/pseuds/nativeportlandian
Summary: In the wake of a firefight, Shepard and Garrus try out cultural norms.





	Sore Spots

**Author's Note:**

> If I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?

It had been a particularly hard mission. The Blood Pack were numerous at any point, but this location was definitely overfilled with the vorcha foot soldiers Blood Pack was known for. And no matter how many incendiary rounds Shepard packed into her weapons, it seemed that they just kept coming. Her team was exhausted. Tali was panting hard into her comm as she sprinted from cover to cover, her hand never leaving her omni-tool. Garrus was making less comments about vorcha headshots and more complaints about running low on ammo. Shepard was covered in dark brown and yellow blood – she’d considered getting rid of her helmet just so she could _see_. As she wiped her gauntlet across her visor for the umpteenth time, she heard her least favorite words.

“ _I’m hit, Shepard_ ,” Garrus grunted into the comm. He followed that with a hiss of pain. Shepard clenched her teeth as she unloaded her shotgun into the face of yet another vorcha screaming toward her.

“How bad?” she asked, turning on one foot to send a concussive shot at a charging krogan. The merc was taken off his feet, which gave her enough time to aim her shotgun at the weak spot between his eyes.

“ _I’ll live_ ,” the turian growled. “ _But I won’t be shooting completely straight_.”

“ _So, no different than usual?_ ” Tali teased. Her respirator was sounding raspier than usual.

“ _I’d like to see you even try to lift my Widow, Tali_ ,” Garrus shot back. 

“You know, we might kill a few more mercs if you two would stop flirting,” Shepard said as she slammed her fist into the unarmored gut of a vorcha. 

“ _Everyone knows Garrus only has eyes for one_ ,” Tali trilled.

“ _Yeah. My gun_.”

As if on cue, a shot from above took out a vorcha lunging at Shepard from her left. She turned around and gave a thumbs up in the general direction of the bullet.

“Shouldn’t be too much more,” she said. True to her word, the vorcha waves had dwindled down to about a dozen, and with most of the krogan leaders taken out, they were disorganized and without backup. Shepard radioed in a shuttle for pickup as she pulled out her SMG and the last of her incendiary rounds. 

On the way back to the Normandy, Shepard took the status of the injuries her teammates had suffered in order to brief Chakwas. The only injuries she had gotten were scrapes and bruises – her armor had really taken the worst of it. Tali had a tiny tear on the sleeve of her suit, which she had immediately quarantined and taken a round of antibiotics for. Garrus was mildly reluctant to have Shepard look at him, but she was finally able to threaten him into removing the right shoulder of his armor. His undersuit was soaked with dark blue blood.

“Jesus, Garrus,” Shepard hissed, pulling her hand back from the wound. He had a bullet hole where his shoulder armor met his cowl. It had made it into the space in between his plates, tearing into the gray-brown skin beneath.

“It was a lucky shot,” Garrus grumbled. He wouldn’t meet Shepard’s eyes. She knew enough about turian subvocals to tell that he was ashamed. “They were aiming for my head.”

“Are you okay?” Shepard asked, still eyeing the hole. The bleeding seemed to have stopped for the most part, but a steady stream of blue drips was falling onto the floor of the shuttle.

“I’m fine. Can’t even feel it.”

Tali huffed a laugh. “You’re a lying bosh’tet.”

Garrus shrugged and subsequently winced, which only made Tali laugh again.

“I’ll let Chakwas know,” Shepard said, sitting back down.

When they got back to the ship, Shepard sent a grumbling Garrus to the medbay. Chakwas had welcomed him in with open arms, and then ordered Shepard to see her as well before she slipped away to her quarters.

“I’m fine, doc,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Chakwas raised one eyebrow. “Commander, you’re entirely covered with blood.”

“Not mine!” she argued, gesturing to the stains on her armor.

“In,” the doctor ordered, pointing into the medbay, where a very amused turian was waiting. Shepard rolled her eyes but complied, reaching for the catches on her gauntlets. 

Garrus was checked first. Chakwas made him remove all of his armor and the top half of his undersuit for better access to the wound. Shepard tried not to stare, but it was difficult when she had never seen a shirtless turian before. His keel plate took up almost the entirety of the front of his body, coming to a point at the start of his cowl. He had a lot more skin exposed than Shepard expected – his stomach had a few plates on the front of it, but the sides were just the leathery-looking skin. She could see the lean, bunched muscles of his arms where the plates didn’t cover them. 

He must have caught her looking at him, because he splayed his mandibles in a grin and brought his arm up in a traditional flex. “Like what you see, Commander?”

Shepard felt her cheeks heat up. She covered it with a cheeky grin. “You wish, Vakarian.”

Chakwas had apparently taken the distraction as a chance to stick the meaty part of her shoulder with a needle. Shepard flinched. “Ouch! What the hell?”

The doctor taped a soaked cotton ball to the sore spot. “Just a safety precaution,” she said. “Lord knows what diseases those vagrants carry.”

Garrus rumbled. “That tiny needle goes through your skin?”

“Yes?” Shepard said, rubbing at the tape. “We aren’t armadillos.”

“What’s an armadillo?”

She held her hands about a foot apart. “An earth animal that reminds me of you. Plated. Tough skin. Cooler than you though. They roll up into little balls.”

Garrus winced as Chakwas wiped the wound on his shoulder with alcohol. “Why would they do that?”

“So they’re protected from predators,” Shepard said, grabbing her shirt to pull back over her head. “Are you saying turians don’t roll into little armored balls when they’re scared?”

Garrus flicked a mandible. “Turians don’t get scared.”

Chakwas chuffed as she placed the bandage over the wound. “I certainly wish they would more often. Maybe I could have gone on more vacations.”

Shepard hopped off the exam table, tearing the tape off her shoulder as she did so. “I’ll let you have fun with that, doc. See ya, Vakarian. I don’t envy you.”

Garrus laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love it here.”

Chakwas hummed. “That warms my cold doctor heart, Garrus.”

...

Shepard came down to the battery after writing her mission report. She liked to use the excuse of checking in with her crew, but she admittedly spent a little more time in Garrus’s quarters than was strictly necessary.

Garrus gave her his usual greeting but was not at his normal position in front of the battery’s interface. Instead, he was reclining on the cot he kept in the corner, scrolling through his omni-tool. He was still not wearing his shirt or armor, which was a truly odd sight. The bandage Shepard had seen Chakwas starting was wrapped fully around his shoulder joint.

“Damn, Garrus,” Shepard said, leaning against the console. “No calibrations? Has hell finally frozen over?”

Garrus rumbled a laugh. “Chakwas is making me rest my shoulder. She’s concerned that the bullet may have torn through a ligament.” He rolled the shoulder and winced. “It’s pretty damn sore.”

“With one little bullet wound?” Shepard teased. “You know, I knew a turian once whole rocket to the face and didn’t complain about it once.”

Garrus spread his mandibles. “That sounds like one badass turian. Do you think he’s single?”

Shepard tapped her chin, holding back a grin. “I think he and his rifle are in a pretty serious relationship. I hear he's painting Clan markings on it soon.”

Garrus laughed, deep and hearty. The sound always made her grin like a little kid when she heard it. 

“I can’t rule that one out, Shepard,” he chuckled. His eyes suddenly became serious. “She also said no ground missions until it’s healed.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows. “Oh, shit. Any way we can speed that up? I’m not sure I like the idea of cooped up Garrus.”

He started rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly. “Hmm. My mother used to say that tea was the miracle cure for all injuries.” Garrus shook his head. “I drank so much tea. Even though I thought it was disgusting.”

Shepard smiled. “I think tea actually helps. You know what my mom did?”

“What?” he asked, raising a brow plate. 

“She’d kiss my booboos to make them go away. Every single time. Always made it a hundred times better.”

Garrus blinked. “I have no idea what you mean by that.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Shepard conceded. “Turians don’t have lips.”

“Do humans have healing properties in their saliva?” Garrus asked, genuinely interested. 

Shepard rearranged herself so she was sitting forward, resting her chin on her fist. “No idea. But that’s not the point. Her love was supposed to heal me.”

Garrus cocked his head to the side slightly. “I don’t get it.”

Shepard rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the rail. “Here. Scoot over.” She plopped down next to him, narrowly missing his legs as he swung them to the side. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

“What are you doing?” Garrus asked.

Without allowing herself to think about the consequences of her actions, she responded “Making you feel better.” Then she leaned over the front of him and pressed her lips to the crux of his shoulder and neck, right on top of the bandage. It was just a quick peck meant to prove a point, but Shepard found her heart racing as she pulled away. 

She looked up to see Garrus’s eyes boring into her. She cursed turian anatomy for not allowing her to read his face for emotions. It would probably not be good if she had just made one of her crew uncomfortable. “See? Doesn’t that feel better?”

Garrus blinked three times in quick succession before looking to the side, absently placing a hand on his neck. “To be honest with you Shepard, I have no idea.”

There was a brief, heavy silence in between them. Shepard was very quickly attempting to come up for an apology for totally bursting Garrus’s personal space bubble and probably breaking several cultural norms. Her thoughts were broken by Garrus’s sudden burst of laughter.

“You know, I think it does feel better,” he said lightly. “Much better than tea.”

“Yeah?” Shepard said, a grin pulling one side of her mouth up. “It better. That’s the pinnacle of human medicine right there.”

Garrus’s mandibles flicked out. “Wish I’d known that when I got on this ship. I could’ve saved so much time without this damn cast.” He touched his fingers to the stabilizing material on the side of his face. “It would probably need a lot of kisses though…”

Shepard pushed his side, rolling her eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Vakarian.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing a challenge where I put my spotify on shuffle and write a oneshot based off of a line in said song. Maybe I'll add more?? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
